


Walking on the sky

by Hermit9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Bad at Feelings, Destiel if you want, Driving, Fluff, Gen, POV Castiel, Season/Series 09, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, supernaturalpromptchallenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermit9/pseuds/Hermit9
Summary: There were many things Castiel learned as he was falling, fallen, and awkwardly navigating the spectrum in between. The first was food. He suddenly understood why Sam and Dean were so focused on when their next meal was coming - and why they bickered so much about it. The second was that angels could get motion sickness; however, he thought it might be more of a commentary on his driving skills. After all, in his own experience, he had never felt ill himself while Dean was driving. Hannah did not seem to hold it against him. The third was the carnivals.
---
Set in season 9, somewhere after (but nearish) 9x18 Meta-Fiction





	

**Author's Note:**

> SPN Prompt Challenge  
> Month : November 2016 (Nature)  
> {PROMPT} - Sky
> 
> See the end notes for the awesome art from [Pimento](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pimento/pseuds/Pimento). Thank you so much!

There were many things Castiel learned as he was falling, fallen, and awkwardly navigating the spectrum in between. The first was food. He suddenly understood why Sam and Dean were so focused on when their next meal was coming - and why they bickered so much about it. The second was that angels could get motion sickness; however, he thought it might be more of a commentary on his driving skills. After all, in his own experience, he had never felt ill himself while Dean was driving. Hannah did not seem to hold it against him. The third was the carnivals.

There didn’t seem to a reason or sense to them, but he found that they were pretty prevalent as he crisscrossed the country. Small dingy things with rigged games, honest ones with shiny new rides. Harvest themed or just planted in the parking lot of a decaying shopping mall. It didn’t matter much, he liked them all. The food was bad and too greasy - it reminded him of the Winchesters. But the rides. The rides he loved for himself. He would wander around, ignoring the games and the clowns and the sideshows, and line-up over and over for the roller coasters, sitting in the first wagon as often as he could. He loved listening to the chains clanking as the train climbed up the incline, focusing on the sky above with a soft smile. And when they went downhill and the humans shrieked with delight, his smile grew. It was a bit like flying.

The sun had set and the fair was winding down when he got off the Ferris wheel. Hannah had long since left for the motel; she was uncomfortable with the crowds of humans around her. Castiel sighed. The walk back would be easy enough but when he got there, there would be need for more strategizing, trying to stop his siblings from committing further genocide against each other. As if saving even one of them would help wash the blood and ash off his hands.

“Hey Cas.”

He stopped walking, standing still with hands at his side as he turned his head towards the familiar voice.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean smiled and walked up to Castiel from where he’d been leaning against the cheap riot fence.

“Got you a pretzel.”

Castiel took the offered food with a slow squint of confusion. The bread was still warm and he could feel the gritty crystals of sugar and cinnamon on it.

“My grace is fleeting but I do not require food at this time. What are you doing here?”

Dean shrugged. He tore off a piece of the pretzel and popped it in his mouth, talking around the bread.

“Hannah’s worried about you. She called us.”

“She told you where we were?”

Dean shook his head.

“Nah, you trained her well. I had Sam track the GPS on her phone.”

Castiel nodded. That made sense. He would have to find out how to disable that, it was a potential liability.

“Why are you here, Dean?”

“I worry about you too, buddy.” He smirked. “Hannah said you like the Ferris wheel?”

Castiel nodded and took a bite of the pretzel. He didn’t want to explain why and one thing he’d learned was that chewing would often trump the need to answer. He winced, apparently his senses were firmly on the molecule side of things today.

“Ok. So here’s the plan. You and me are taking a drive. Then I’ll bring you back to Hannah on her next stop.”

“Dean, I _cannot_ walk away from this. And where is Sam?”

Dean shrugged again.

“He’s with Hannah. She’s going to be fine Cas.” He draped his arm around Cas’ shoulder and started walking, dragging him along for a few steps.

“Trust me man, you’ll like this.”

Castiel didn’t answer, just followed the hunter. After the debacle that had been Purgatory he found he rarely had it in him to deny Dean anything when he asked. Which is why, frankly, he’d been avoiding situations where Dean would ask anything from him. He turned his head as he walked, trying to read the expression on the human’s face. Even with his fluctuating sight he could catch glimpses of his soul behind the sparkling green of his eyes - it pained him to see the tendrils of smoke reaching deeper into him, climbing up old scars.

“Something troubles you.”

Dean’s smile was soft. It was a mask, Castiel knew, but it was closer to a real smile then he’d seen on him ever since he took on the mark.

“Nah. I’m good Cas. Just worry about you.”

***

They didn’t talk much during the drive. The yellow and white lines on the road becoming strangely hypnotic. Castiel was happy to sit in that light trance, only jarred out of it as Dean told him to find a specific cassette as he cycled through the collection. He was glad for the music; Heaven was too silent. Even when he had cut himself off from “Angel radio” he could feel the static pressure of it. This silence was a gaping maw of absence, gnawing at the part of his mind where the choir of his siblings’ minds usually sang. He could barely imagine how maddening it must be to those who had not previously willingly cut themselves off from the host. But this was comfortable, somehow, for now.

Castiel didn’t miss the long glances (bordering on stares) Dean sent his way. When the road was flat and straight and they were alone he returned it, allowing Dean to read whatever he was looking for in his own eyes. He wondered if the hunter could see glimpses of Castiel’s true self like the angel could see his soul? If he did, was he disgusted by what he saw, by what Castiel had become? Castiel could feel the foreign grace fighting him, leeching out of him like poisonous light. He knew his wings were singed and broken, he could still feel the slime of Leviathan somewhere in his guts. Castiel was not surprised when Dean broke eye contact, every time. He told himself it was safer, for the driving.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of a motel shortly after midnight.

“I just need 2-3 hours of shut eyes. I want us there for dawn.”

“I could drive.” Cas offered. It seemed polite to do so, not that he actually expected Dean to agree. He was rarely allowing even Sam to drive these days.

“Nah. Then I’d have to tell you where we’re going and I don’t want to spoil it.” He got out of the car, stretching his lower back before shutting the creaky door. Castiel followed.

“So I’ll get us a room. I can set you up on the laptop if you want to edit Wikipedia historical things again. Do you still do that?”

“I haven’t had the opportunity, as of late.”

“Ok, yeah. Do that, or whatever. Just don’t stare at me all night. That’s still creepy.”

“Of course.”

Dean fell face first onto the bed, not bothering with the covers and was fast asleep. Castiel chuckled. Neither Winchesters were deep sleepers, but he knew that this was a display of trust. He quietly sat at the table with the computer, finding an angle where he could watch both Dean and the door. His Wikipedia profile was already open on the computer. He looked over at the articles flagged for editing. For tonight he didn’t feel like retelling the wars of humanity, so he pulled up a few of the Norse and Egyptian pages and started correcting the translations.

Castiel left the room quietly after two and a half hours of work, easily finding the coffee machine in the lobby. It was sticky and the coffee had an oily shine to it, so after much internal debate he decided the grace expenditure was less now than what would likely be required later if Dean got sick. He let the door of the room close a little louder as he returned.

“Urrmph?” Dean pawed at his face as he scratched most of the sleep out of his eyes.

“I got you coffee,” said Castiel, offering the freshly sanitized beverage.

“Thank’s Cas. You’re an angel.” Dean’s voice was slurred. Castiel waited patiently for the words to reach Dean’s brains. “I mean, you always were an angel, but thanks for the coffee and waking me up, I guess.”

“I know,” Castiel says with a small smile. “I also cleaned the salt lines, so we can go when you’re ready.”

“I didn’t put up any salt lines,” Dean said, confused.

“I did. You sleep better when the room’s salted. I didn’t bother with wards, I hope that’s alright.”

“That’s more than alright Cas. That’s great.” Dean stretched and grabbed his bag. He left the room key on the table and the door closed on the anonymous room with no trace of their passage.

***

The second half of the drive was strangely silent, with Dean fidgeting, fingers drumming familiar songs on the steering wheel. Castiel looked at him with concern; this was how Dean acted when he was trying to keep something back. What secret worse than the Mark could he be holding behind clenched teeth? Worse than tricking his brother into being possessed by an angel?

“Ok Cas, this is going to sound really weird, but do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Dean. Is there something that I should know?”

“No, no. Just. It’s going to sound weird, alright?”

Castiel locked his gaze with Dean’s, not trying to pry this time, just trying to understand.

“Yes. Because our lives are the epitome of normality.”

“Ok, you got me there. So ok, hear me out.” Dean stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Can you.. Close your eyes? Until I tell you to open them? Like all of your eyes, angel antennas and what not included?”

Castiel looked at him for a few seconds more. There was a current of nervousness in Dean, but no guilt, no danger.

“Tell me when to open them.” He closed his eyes and leaned against the door of the Impala the way he had seen Sam fall asleep, letting the vibration of the car fill in the blanks of his vision.

He felt the shift in vibration when Dean got off the highway, slowing down incrementally as the roads got worse, or perhaps busier. There was no high pitch whining of passing cars so Castiel chose to believe the first option. It felt strange, willingly blinding himself this way, combining with the disorientation he felt ever since his wings had broken. If it had been anyone else he wouldn’t have done it, he knew. After a further 30 minutes, the car slowed to a full stop, but Dean did not turn off the motor, the constant purr of the engine still rumbling under Castiel’s cheek.

“I’m going to find a place to park, then we’re going to walk a bit, but you keep your eyes closed, ok?”

“Yes Dean.”

There was gentle lurching and turning and then the vibrations were gone. Castiel found he missed it, the silence was louder again without it. He was glad for the creak in the driver side door, gathering himself upright so he wouldn’t fall when the door on his side opened.

“Ok Cas. I’ll just guide you ok? It’s not far.”

Castiel nodded, feeling the familiar grip of Dean’s hand on his shoulder as they started walking. The air was strange, he decided as he took a few breath. Wet and salty but there was no sound of waves, and besides they had not driven nearly enough to be by any coast.

They walked for what felt ten or twenty minutes before Dean’s hand vanished from his arm.

“Ok. Open your eyes.”

Castiel did, blinking a few times as he tried to adjust to the ambient light. The first rays of dawn were just starting to rise above the horizon, painting the sky in pale pastel colors, peach and yellow spreading out. Soft red tinging the edges of thorn and fettered clouds. Castiel shook his head, sure there was something wrong with his eyes because the same colors seemed to be spreading on the ground, around him, so that he was walking amongst those clouds.

“It’s ok,” Dean said. “Your eyes are fine.”

Castiel turned around to look at Dean, seeing him also surrounded by the colors of dawn, smiling softly.

“I know it’s not your wings,” Dean said. “But it’s as close as I could give you.”

Castiel nodded, blinking away the tears so that he would not miss anything. He turned toward the rising sun again, spreading his arms wide as he walked on the sky. The soft breeze made the fabric of his overcoat flap gently behind him. It wasn’t flying. But it was almost as good.

**Author's Note:**

> Dean brought Cas to the Bonneville Salt flats.


End file.
